CS09 Grand Theft Major
by Margaret Price
Summary: This is one for the books, Dorian reflected. He had stolen just about everything, including the Pope. Now he had finally managed to steal the Major. He only hoped the officer would be grateful for it. Inside Out Cliche series No9


**Disclaimer: **The boys aren't mine, but the various stray ideas that made up the story are.

**Notes:** This fic was inspired by a thought on a standard cliché—Spy hero is captured, drugged with truth serum, and says the wrong thing to the wrong person. Don't worry, this isn't standard fare. It does, however, fit in nicely with the Obscure Fandoms's August 2007 Dress-upchallenge.

**Warnings:** Angst-lite, no graphic mansex—sorry.

**Summary:** Cliché #9 – Spy hero captured, drugged, and reveals the wrong thing to the wrong person.

_This is one for the books, _Dorian reflected. He had stolen just about everything, including the Pope. Now he had finally managed to steal the Major. He only hoped the officer would be grateful for it.

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**Grand Theft Major**

**By Margaret Price **

Dorian had to grab onto something solid as the van he was in the back of bounced along the uneven surface of a country road. "Careful, Jones!" he called. "We don't want to end up in a ditch." He glanced out the back window, seeing the headlights of the vehicles with the rest of his men in them.

"Sorry, milord," Jones called back. "We'll be on the main road in a tick."

Dorian did not reply, having turned his attention back to the bundle beside him that had been hurriedly wrapped in blankets before being carefully loaded into the van.

Eroica had led his gang into a secluded country manor what was supposed to be closed for the season. The object of his desire was an art collection in storage. Instead, he stumbled across a lost treasure more precious than any work of art. Major Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach.

Dorian moved the blanket aside to gaze at the face of the unconscious Major. His uniform was in tatters, revealing livid bruises beneath. _This is one for the books, _Dorian reflected. He had stolen just about everything, including the Pope. Now he had finally managed to steal the Major. He only hoped the officer would be grateful for it.

The thief had chanced upon the interrogation room on his way to a subterranean vault. The presence of others had been a bit of a shock to say the least. The house was supposed to be empty, which, no doubt, was why it was being used by spies.

After stumbling across the Major, Dorian had his men do a quick sweep of the house to see exactly how many unfriendly individuals they were up against. He was surprised to learn that it was only the two men holding the Major.

It had been simple enough for the thieves to lure the men out of the room, going on to lock them in the vault before making off with the artwork, the Major—and all the recordings of his interrogation. The tricky bit had been contacting the Major's men. The exact hows and the whys of Eroica knowing the whereabouts of the missing NATO officer had been greeted with suspicion, which he had found strange, if not insulting. Did they actually think _Eroica_ would be a traitor to the Crown?

The Major gave a soft moan and shifted in the blankets, returning Dorian to reality. The man was deathly pale. _Just how long were you in that hellhole?_

"Don't you worry, Major," Dorian said, gently stroking the agitated man's cheek. "You're safe now." He gave a bittersweet smile when the officer instantly settled down at the sound of the familiar voice, his eyes fluttered open slightly.

The Major muttered a few words, of which Dorian only understood "Dieb," before dropping back into unconsciousness.

oOoOoOoOoOo

For an evening mid-week, the bar had a good crowd but was not exactly packed. The music wasn't overly loud, allowing those who wished to dance to do so without interfering with any intimate conversations in dark corner booths. The occupant of one such booth, however, sat alone, having rebuffed the advances of every man who had gotten up the courage to approach him over the past several hours.

Dorian did not even have to raise his eyes from his glass to know someone else was on their way to make yet another overture. The snickers from those he had turned away alerted him each time it happened.

"May I join you?"

Dorian looked up, the words, "Sod off!" on the tip of his tongue. Instead, his mouth dropped open and he stared up at the man standing over him. He had a riot of long dark curls and was in the process of brushing back the stray ones that had fallen into his face. He was dressed in a striking ensemble of green and gold that was not so tight as to be uncomfortable, but tight enough to show he was in excellent physical condition. Despite the disguise, Dorian recognized him instantly.

"You look as though you could use a friend…"

Dorian returned to reality with a jolt. He had been right. The voice was unmistakable. It was the Major; dressed to kill, standing over him in a very public way in a gay bar.

"May I join you?" Klaus repeated, nodding at the vacant seat across from the Earl.

"Uh…yeah," Dorian managed to choke out as he held out a hand. He looked up, seeing the jealous eyes of the men he had rebuffed all evening glaring at the disguised officer as he slid into the seat opposite him.

After several very long minutes of silence, Dorian could stand it no longer. He looked around to make certain no one was within earshot before leaning over the table, his voice no louder than a whispered hiss. "Major, what the _hell_ do you think you're doing?"

The Major's eyebrows went up as he took a sip from his glass. "I'm sitting in a bar having some excellent German beer," he replied succinctly.

Dorian felt himself getting very angry. He had to fight to keep his voice down. "No, you're sitting in a _gay_ bar having some excellent German beer with _me!_" he corrected sharply.

"You don't seem to be drinking at the moment."

Dorian sat back, his eyes blazing. "Major, if you don't tell me _right_ _now_ why you're here, I'm gonna stand up, rip that wig off your head, and take a picture of you in _that_ outfit with _that_ cell phone." He threw a glance over at the phone on the table beside his drink to make his point.

The Major's eyes flashed briefly. "I came looking for you, isn't it obvious?" he said firmly.

"Major…"

"What did you expect me to do? You won't take my calls."

Dorian reached for his drink, thought better of it, and pushed it away as Klaus went on. "You rescue me from terrorists, save my life, prevent sensitive information from getting into the wrong hands, and now you won't even return my calls when I try to say thank you."

"Alright, fine, you've said it." Dorian turned sideways and crossed his arms. "Now go away." A pause. "Please."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Klaus demanded finally. He received only a sideways glare in reply. "We were okay before the mission, now it's like…" He paused, finally asking the question that he feared hearing the answer to. "Did you question me while I was drugged?" To his relief, the answer was no.

"By the time I got to you, you were incoherent," Dorian admitted. "Babbling."

"I see." Klaus continued to study the Earl as he persisted in his silence. After being captured and interrogated for he did not know how long, the Major had awoken in a hospital where he learned the details of his extraordinary rescue. He had been given drugs and had apparently talked his head off—in several languages—revealing dozens of secrets, all of which were recorded. Recordings that Eroica had turned over to NATO along with the Major and his captors.

After he had recovered enough to be released from the hospital, Klaus had attempted to contact the Earl but had been hitting a brick wall. Before he was declared fit to return to duty, he decided to track down the elusive Earl of Gloria and find out exactly why he was suddenly getting the cold shoulder. _Dammit, why couldn't the idiot have done this __**before**__ he got me into his bed!_

It was obvious that the German was not going to just leave and Dorian turned back to face him. "I overheard some of the questioning," he admitted. "While my men were searching the house, I waited outside that…_room_ you were in. Those men were listening to the recording they'd made."

Klaus's eyes narrowed. What the hell could he have said that would turn the Earl into an iceberg? "_And…?_ What did I say? That I wish you had better taste in clothes?"

"No, you tell me that all the time."

"So what the fuck did I say that has you treating me like a leper?"

Dorian looked up. For the first time he was keenly aware of where he was. The jealous onlookers had since moved on, having been replaced with other hopefuls. "Are you sure you want to talk about this _here?_"

Klaus was very quickly losing his patience. "Just tell me, will you!" he growled. "Jesus, you're worse than a _woman_."

Dorian's eye's narrowed. "That's rich, coming from you! You said you weren't attracted to other men!" he blurted out in a voice that was at a volume that got the attention of those at the bar. He felt his face grow very hot as dozens of pairs of eyes turned in his direction.

Klaus found himself grateful that his back was to their audience, although he could feel all the eyes in the room boring into the back of his head. "That's it?"

"Isn't it enough!"

"Dorian, ever since the day you turned up at my house, _someone_ has been trying to..to…" He floundered a moment before finding the right term. "To 'out' me."

"I know that! I was one of them!" Dorian grabbed his glass and downed its contents before he put a hand to his head, closing his eyes.

"You still are."

"That was just for show!"

"_Was_ for show? Are you saying we're no longer lovers?"

Dorian's eyes snapped open. "It's so easy for you like that, isn't it? Hiding beneath a disguise. Coming in here, pretending to be just another …" He waved a hand to take in the Major's appearance. "Another…_fag!_"

The words had the desired effect—they stung. Klaus stiffened visibly, his eyes darkening. "None of this is easy," he stated flatly. "But what I said is the truth."

Dorian slapped his hand on the table. "Just put a bullet through my heart, why don't you?" A hand covered the one on the table before Dorian could withdraw it and he felt his heart turn over. _No, don't touch me! I'll just fall in love with you again!_

"Dorian...listen to me," Klaus said quietly.

"No. Not if you're gonna tell me the only reason you slept with me was because you got sick of fighting me off."

Klaus blinked. "Is that why you think I did it?"

Finally, the Earl looked up. "After hearing what you said, what else _can_ I think?"

Klaus shook his head, the riot of black curls in his wig bouncing into this face as he did so. "They asked the wrong question. I'm not attracted to other men." Before Dorian could reply, he took hold of the hand on the table and brought it to his lips. "I'm only attracted to _you_."

Dorian gave a small sigh and was certain he was about to melt into a pile of jelly. "I think that's the most romantic thing you've ever said to me."

Klaus gave a small grunt, repositioning the wig at the same time. "Foppish nonsense is easy in this getup."

For the first time all evening, a bright smile lit up the Earl's face. "Then we must get you out of it at once…before it becomes a habit." He grinned all the more at the indignant snort this received. He got to his feet, holding a hand out.

Klaus slid from his seat and turned, seeing the envious eyes of the jilted others at the bar. His first instinct was to panic, to back away from the Earl. Then he glanced over at the beaming Dorian and saw his expression falter. _Shit, he still thinks I'm lying._ He drew himself to his full height, took the Earl's face in his hands, and—in front of God and all—kissed him very tenderly on the mouth.

When Klaus leaned back, the adoring look in Dorian's eyes made his heart jump. It also made another part of his anatomy jump, something the Earl would be keenly aware of as he suddenly hugged him. The pair broke apart, exchanging a knowing look. Klaus wordlessly put his arm around Dorian's waist and turned, slowly moving toward the door, the crowd parting like the Red Sea before them.

— END —


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